


words will be just words ('til you bring them to life)

by firefall



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Nerf Gun Fights, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1942257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefall/pseuds/firefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>As it turns out, making Louis laugh is even better than making him angry. <i></i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s the strangest thought Nick has ever had.<i></i></i>
</p><p>Nick and Louis don't have to share a bed, but they do anyway and it works out better than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	words will be just words ('til you bring them to life)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wontstoptillsurrender](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wontstoptillsurrender/gifts).



> This is for wontstoptillsurrender's adorable prompt: "Nick's house is getting renovated, so he comes to stay with Harry and Louis. He somehow keeps finding himself curled up next to Louis every night."
> 
> Warnings for some swearing and...not much else, to be honest. A little crying.
> 
> This is set during the off-time between the TMH and WWA tours, because it's one of the only breaks they've had in the past 4 years.
> 
> Title is from "Another World" by One Direction because I'm super cheesy and it fits well.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anyone and am making no judgments on their personalities or personal lives.

Louis swears writing used to be easier than this.  There was a time when he and Liam could hole up in a hotel room and have an entire song figured out by bedtime, but now they’re just staring at each other, at a loss.  The room is silent save for the whirring of the heater and Louis kind of wants to cry.  “What the hell’s wrong with us?” he whispers, flopping back on the carpet in the middle of Liam’s lounge.  “Just…what the hell?”

 

“Writer’s block, mate,” Liam answers matter-of-factly from the sofa.  He doesn’t seem too bothered by it and Louis rolls his tired eyes.  Typical.

 

“Thank you, Liam, for your most excellent nut-shelling,” he snips, staring up at the ceiling.  “You’ve been supremely unhelpful.”  He knows he’s being a brat, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s on the edge of a crisis and he just can’t help it.  It’s just never been this _hard_ before _._

 

He hears Liam shifting around and all of a sudden his friend drops down next to him on the floor.  “We’re going to be alright,” he says in that sincere Liam-voice that makes people want to believe him.  “Everyone has bad days…it’s not a big deal.  We’ll try again later.”

 

Louis wants to laugh, wants to yell that it’s easy for Liam to say when he’s got one of the best voices in the business and all that magnetizing popstar charisma the papers write about.  Songwriting is Louis’ thing – it’s what he’s best at.  And if he can’t write, he’s not quite sure where that leaves him.  Instead of saying any of this, Louis reaches over to give Liam a pat on the stomach.  “Look on the bright side…if this music thing tanks, you’d make one hell of a Beckham impersonator.”

 

When Liam breaks into laughter, his eyes squinting up, Louis feels a bit of the pressure fall off his shoulders.  “Only if you’re my Posh.”

 

“Deal.”

 

They spend the next ten minutes thinking up alternate careers – the conversation derails somewhere around the time Louis suggests go-go dancing – and by the time they’ve run out of ideas, Louis is exhausted.  He waves off Liam’s invitation to stay the night, gives him a dramatic kiss on the cheek, and heads for home.  He really needs to sleep in his own bed tonight.

 

This thought in his head, he bypasses Harry’s room where he usually sleeps and pushes open the door to his own, flicking on the light.  A yelp echoes through the room and Louis’ heart nearly rockets out of his chest, for there in his bed is Nick Grimshaw.

 

“What are you doing here?” the DJ groans from under the duvet – _Louis’_ duvet! – squinting against the light.  “It’s like half two!”

 

The absolute _audacity_ of the question shakes Louis out of his shocked silence.  “What am _I_ doing here?” he cries, a wave of annoyance hitting him full-force.  “This is _my_ flat and that is _my_ bed!  I should be asking you that question!”

 

Instead of answering, Nick just shushes him.  Actually _shushes_ him.  Louis is furious.  “You’re going to wake Harry,” the older man hisses, putting a finger to his lips as if Louis is a fucking child.  “He said you normally bunk with him, so he gave me your room.  Quite unfortunate, that.”

 

Louis snorts, shaking his head in disbelief.  Then a huge yawn knocks him breathless and, just like that, he’s done fighting.  He’s much too tired to deal with this right now.  “Fine, whatever.  I don’t care.  But if you think I’m not sleeping in my bed tonight, you’re crazy.”

 

Without waiting for Nick to answer, Louis turns the light back off and slips out of his jeans.  His face goes hot even though he knows Nick can’t see him, but he ignores it in favor of pulling back the blankets and collapsing onto the mattress.  He’s pretty sure he lands on Nick’s arm, but the older man knows what’s good for him and pulls away without saying a word.

 

That is, until a whispered “goodnight” sounds from somewhere by Louis’ ear.  Very quietly, Louis whispers it back and finds it doesn’t annoy him as much as it should.  Before that thought can sufficiently bother him, his exhaustion gets the best of him and he drops off to sleep.

 

_-_-_-_

 

They’d fallen asleep on opposite ends of the bed, but when Nick wakes up at the crack of dawn, Louis is clinging to him like a lifeline.  Nick’s sweating and his arms are pinned to his sides and he wants to be irritated, but Louis is really cute when he sleeps, is the thing.  He doesn’t look nearly as sharp and terrifying as he does while conscious, so Nick feels bad jostling him to climb out of bed.  But he’s an adult with a job, dammit, and he’s already later than he wanted to be, so he pulls out of Louis’ embrace as gently as he can and sets about getting ready for the day.  Louis doesn’t wake up.

 

Nick arrives at the Radio 1 headquarters with barely a minute to spare.  He’s met with a chorus of friendly hellos from Matt and Fiona, but as soon as they’re on air, they turn on him.  “So, did you have a rough night, Grim?” Fiona asks and her eyes are crinkling with laughter.  Nick hates her and loves her in equal parts.  “You were right down to the wire today…we were beginning to think we’d have to start without you!”

 

“What was the distraction this time?” Matt asks, the flat tone of his voice betrayed by the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  “Or maybe I should ask _who_?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Nick just plays a series of sound effects that he hopes communicates to the nation exactly how he feels about his coworkers.  “I’ll have you and the rest of the country know that I’ve had a very stressful weekend, thank you very much,” he tells them and it’s definitely not a lie.  Waking up to find that one of his walls had collapsed wasn’t exactly the relaxing Sunday morning he’d had in mind.  The repairman had said something about it being a “load-bearing wall” – whatever that meant – but the only thing Nick cared about was the fact that he had to stay out of his flat for three whole weeks lest the entire place come down on his head.  It was a modern tragedy.  “As it turns out, my flat is apparently plotting my demise so I’ve had to move in with my friend for the time being.” 

 

“That’s rough,” Matt says sympathetically.  Nick’s about to agree with him, but the words turn into a squawk of indignation when Matt goes on, “I’ll be sure to keep your poor friend in my thoughts and prayers.”

 

Nick is affronted, because not only is he a _magnificent_ houseguest, thank you, that’s also rich coming from the guy that once puked in Nick’s houseplant and left without cleaning it up.  “Finchy!” he cries, half-laughing, half-offended.  “You’re just mad that _you_ aren’t sharing a bed with a popstar!”

 

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he regrets them.  He’s pissed off enough angry fangirls in his time to know exactly what’s going to happen – his Twitter feed and Tumblr tag are probably swamped already.  Not to mention, Louis is going to be _furious_.

 

The thought cheers him up almost instantly.  Unable to tamp down on an evil smile, Nick throws caution to the wind and says into the mic, “It’s not as glamorous as it seems though…those popstars are a needy bunch!  They’re all…” Here he forces his voice way up high and bats his eyelashes dramatically.  “… _Oh, fluff my pillow!  Brush my hair…fifty strokes!_  And when you wake up, they’re squeezing you within an inch of your life.  It’s awful, really.”

 

“Sounds like a real hardship,” Fiona says dryly, refusing to play along.

 

“It’s true.  And speaking of hardships, we’ve got Sam Smith here with _Stay With Me_!”  Nick switches the song on and as soon as the mics go off, his friends break into teasing _oooh_ ’s that make him roll his eyes.  Fiona’s even wiggling her eyebrows up and down.  Nick just flips them off in answer.

 

He only lasts thirty seconds before he cracks and checks his Twitter.  Just as he thought, his feed is overrun with nasty tweets and he tries resolutely to stop reading them.  He’s a grown ass man…he’s way past getting upset over people calling him names on the internet.  Besides, there’s only one thing he cares about: Louis is going to be _so_ pissed.  He can’t wait.

 

_-_-_-_

 

When Louis wakes up in the early afternoon – they’re on break…he’s allowed to be lazy – he marches straight to the kitchen where he can hear Harry banging around, grabs his friend by the hips, and pushes him down in the closest chair.  “Why is _he_ here?” he demands, waving an accusing finger in Harry’s face.  “You didn’t even warn me!”

 

“Why is who here?” Harry tries, putting on that same cute, innocent face he’d been using to charm his way out of trouble since the day Louis met him.  There was a time when it would have worked – Harry could make himself so dang cherubic when he really wanted to – but it’s 20-fucking-14 and Louis isn’t having it.  He just raises his eyebrows and waits.

 

Harry sighs, dropping the act.  “Fine,” he says sheepishly, getting up to turn the stovetop off.  His scrambled eggs are burnt.  Louis is maybe a little happy about that, not that he’d ever say it out loud.  “It’s just three weeks, Lou.  Until they fix the gaping hole in his flat.”

 

“What are they going to do about the gaping hole in his _head_?” Louis mutters, just loud enough for Harry to hear him.  He gets a judgmental glare in return, but he doesn’t care.  This is the worst news he’s ever heard in his life.

 

“ _That’s_ why I didn’t tell you!” Harry _tsk_ s, waving an egg-covered spatula at him and effectively splattering the cabinets with the overly-browned remains of his breakfast.  Louis just wrinkles his nose.  “Because I knew you’d be like this.”

 

The comment rubs Louis the wrong way, makes him feel like a chastised child, so he throws his hands in the air with a groan of irritation.  “I’m not being any type of way!  I was just surprised, okay?  Though _you_ may be used to it, it was a little strange to find _Nick Grimshaw_ of all people in my bed.  That’s all!  Can’t fault a man for that.”

 

A smirk pulls at the corner of Harry’s mouth and slowly spreads across his face.  Louis actually hates him – he _loathes_ him.  He has no idea why they’re friends.  “It didn’t bother you enough to leave, now did it?”  Before Louis can protest, Harry adds off-handedly, “He mentioned it on the radio, by the way.”

 

“He _didn’t_!” Louis grits out, knowing full well that Nick most certainly did.  The guy wasn’t exactly known for his tact.  “Show me the clip!” he demands, curling his hands into fists as his blood boils with premature rage.

 

In barely three minutes, Harry’s got it pulled up on his laptop.  It’s the very first link of the show – Fiona and Matt are teasing Nick for almost being late.  Matt makes one too many smart remarks and Nick bursts out for all of the country to hear, “You’re just mad that _you_ aren’t sharing a bed with a popstar!”  It’s all downhill from there, Nick adopting a high-pitched, whiny voice that’s clearly supposed to be Louis.  He can feel himself going red and it’s only partially from anger.  “That sounds nothing like me!” he whines, then snaps his mouth shut because, _shit_ , maybe Nick’s impression is more accurate than he thought.  The realization just makes him angrier.

 

When the clip is over, Harry grins at him slyly, clearly amused by the whole situation.  “Did you really cuddle him?” he coos patronizingly, reaching across to pat Louis on the head.  Louis smacks his hand away, glaring darkly.  “That’s so sweet, Lou!”

 

“Of course not!” he cries, scandalized and officially done talking about this.  “I’m going back to my room…don’t talk to me until you’re done being an idiot.”  With that he turns on his heel and huffs out of the kitchen, stomping his feet a couple times to make a point.  He can hear Harry’s cackles the whole way.

 

He sets to try some writing again now that his mind is fresh, but all he can think about is stupid Nick Grimshaw and his stupid comments.  He knows he’s lucky, considering – there’s not a person on earth that’s going to think Nick was talking about anyone but Harry – but he’s still pissed.  He glares down at his notebook, decidedly scrawling _How’s It Feel Being The Single Most Awful Person In The World?_ across the top of the page.  It’s as good a working title as any.

 

If he’d thought last night was bad, it’s nothing compared to today.  He strums aimlessly at his guitar and after almost three hours, he’s got the title and not much else.  He’s just about to give up and call it a night when his bedroom door swings open without so much as a knock and Nick strides in, unwinding his scarf from around his neck.  “Hiya, sunshine!” he greets Louis with a smile much bigger than the situation calls for.

 

Louis just scowls, jumping to his feet.  Nick’s basically a giraffe – if Louis is going to confront him, he’ll need all the height he can get.  “You know I didn’t _want_ you there, right?”

 

Nick knows what Louis is talking about – his smirk is proof of that.  “Are you _sure_ about that, love?” he asks, his voice going low as he raises an eyebrow and takes a step toward Louis.  Louis takes a step backward.

 

“Of course I’m sure!” Louis snips, but it wavers a little as he’s forced to take another step back.  Nick keeps getting closer and it’s just really fucking _annoying_.  If Louis could get his mouth to work right, he’d tell him that…he’d tell him that right away.  Louis flinches when Nick puts his hands on his shoulders and then he scrambles backwards, his back colliding with the bedroom door.  Nick’s looming over him, nearly a head taller.  “Um…” Louis says, feeling color rise in his cheeks.  It’s all he can manage at the moment and he inwardly curses himself.  This isn’t the in-control confrontation he’d been planning at all.

 

“Because I think you _did_ ,” Nick says softly, letting his fingers fiddle gently with the ends of Louis’ hair.

 

That’s all it takes to bring Louis back to reality.  He clears his throat, squares his shoulders, and whispers “piss off” as forcefully as he can, cheeks aflame. 

 

Then he bolts.

 

_-_-_-_

 

All things considered, Nick is surprised that Louis doesn’t kick him out of the bedroom later that night.  The younger boy hems and haws and makes a thorough nuisance of himself, but ultimately he grunts, “Scoot over, idiot” and slides in beside Nick.  The silence is tense for a few minutes; neither of them is moving a muscle and for the first time Nick finds himself regretting the way he’d teased Louis earlier, because this is just _awkward_.  So he does the only thing he can think of – he goes to sleep, a whispered “goodnight” falling from between his lips.  Though nearly inaudible, Louis returns it.  That has to count for something.

 

_-_-_-_

 

The show the next morning goes off without a hitch, though Matt does bring up Nick’s popstar bedmate more than is strictly necessary.  Nick just laughs it off, trying to avoid the subject as much as possible.  He’d really like to get his Twitter feed back sooner or later.

 

He gets a quick lunch with Daisy after work, checks in at his flat – it has roughly three less walls than the last time he saw it – and heads back to Harry’s for a boring afternoon of whatever trash TV popstars are into these days.  However, as soon as he opens the front door all dreams he had of relaxing vanish instantly.

 

By which he means, of course, that Louis Tomlinson shoots him straight in the forehead with a Nerf gun.

 

“Bullseye!” he crows, pumping his fist in the air and wiggling around in some sad attempt at a victory dance. 

 

Nick unsticks the dart from his head – it really was a good shot, he has to admit – and throws it down to the floor, rolling his eyes.  Before he can say a word, Louis pulls the trigger again, this time hitting Nick in the stomach.  “Okay, what are you…five?” Nick cries, ducking as Louis lets another one fly, the dart glancing off Nick’s shoulder and hitting the wall behind him.

 

Louis ignores the question, instead yelling, “Quit talking about me on radio!” as he charges at Nick, shooting four rounds right at his face.

 

“Hey!”  Nick bats the little orange bullets away, dropping his oversized coat to the floor and racing past Louis into the safety of the kitchen.  Then he stops in his tracks, realization dawning on him.  “I _knew_ you listened to my show!” he exclaims, triumphant.  “You _love_ it!”

 

Louis follows Nick into the room, his stocking feet slipping across the tile floor.  “Shut up,” he orders petulantly, shooting him in the chest at point-blank range.  The bullet is made of foam, but it actually kind of hurts.  When another dart nails him straight in the eye, Nick decides he’s had enough.

 

“Alright, give me that!” Nick growls, snatching for the Nerf gun while still holding a hand over his poor, injured eye.  Louis ducks out of the way, breaks into a gleaming smile, and all-out sprints out of the kitchen, shouting “You’ll have to catch me first!” over his shoulder.

 

As a general rule, Nick doesn’t run unless he’s being paid for it, but he can hear Louis giggling – actually _giggling_ – from across the flat and it’s messing with his head.  “You’re the absolute worst!” Nick shouts after him, following at a slow run and wondering what his life has become.

 

Despite the fact that two multi-millionaires inhabit it, the flat is fairly small and it takes no time at all for Nick to corner Louis at the end of the hallway, pushing him up against the wall and scrambling to get a hold of the Nerf gun.  Louis is laughing breathlessly and screeching at the top of his lungs, somehow managing to get a couple more shots in before Nick grabs both his tiny wrists in one hand, wrestling the gun away once and for all.

 

Exultant, Nick goes to take a few shots at the younger boy and finds that the gun is empty.  “Of _course_ ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.  Then he holds his hands up, palms out, in a show of surrender.  “Truce?”

 

Grinning, Louis nods.  “But only if you promise to stop mentioning me on the show,” he adds, squaring his jaw and squinting his eyes up.  Any hint of softness instantly disappears from his face.  It’s actually kind of terrifying.

 

“Promise,” Nick says quickly, not wanting to ruin whatever camaraderie they’d managed to build in the past ten minutes.  Because, as it turns out, making Louis laugh is even better than making him angry.

 

It’s the strangest thought Nick has ever had.

 

_-_-_-_

 

“Quick…what’s a word that means _sad_?”

 

The question is so out of nowhere, Nick pauses where he’s rifling through his suitcase looking for his razor and stares at Louis quizzically.  “What?”

 

From where he’s sprawled across the bed on his stomach, Louis waves around a blue spiral notebook, the pages covered in scribbles and cross-outs.  “It’s for a song,” he explains.  “I need a word that means _sad_ , but less…elementary.”

 

“Alright, then.  Um…” Nick straightens up, giving up on his razor for now.  He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed.  “How about _not happy_?”

 

The look Louis shoots him is so disdainful Nick’s surprised he doesn’t burst into flames.  “Thank you!” he says, making his eyes huge and sarcastic.  Louis is the only person Nick knows with sarcastic eyes.  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

 

Nick laughs, flipping him off.  “Okay, okay, sorry!”  He bites his lip, putting every ounce of his vocabulary knowledge to work.  He’s sad to say it’s not as extensive as it should be.  “How about _distraught_?  Or _troubled_?  _Down_?  _Sorrowful_?”  He shrugs.  “That’s all I got.”

 

Louis makes a quiet humming sound in the back of his throat.  “Okay,” he says, scrawling something down in his notebook and then shoving it under his bed.  “Thanks.”

 

Nick just smiles in answer, going over to turn off the overhead light.  He slides into bed next to Louis, careful not to bump the younger boy.  In the darkness, Nick’s braver and he finds himself asking, “About the radio thing…we’re good, right?”

 

Louis sighs as if the question pains him.  His tone is tight when he says, “Believe it or not, my world is a bit bigger than your radio show, Grimshaw.  I don’t care anymore.  Now go to sleep.”

 

As he fights to keep back a giggle fit, Nick has never been so thankful for darkness in his life.  He grins up at the ceiling hiding somewhere in the blackness, sensing the petulance rolling off the younger boy in waves.  Even two days ago, Nick would have been annoyed, but he gets it now.  He really does.  And if the only way Louis knows how to respond to kindness is to be prickly, Nick will put up with it. 

 

“Sweet dreams,” Nick whispers, just to annoy him.

 

“Shut up,” Louis says.  And then they sleep.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Louis has never really thought of himself as a jealous person, but when he walks into the flat after another unfruitful writing session with Liam to see Nick sitting on the sofa with Harry’s head in his lap, he’s very jealous.  Almost embarrassingly so, actually.  And he’s not even sure why.

 

Maybe it’s because Harry was his friend _way_ before he was Nick’s.  Maybe it’s because they both look so happy even while Louis feels like nothing is going right.  Or maybe it’s because they make quite the pair – he can see why they get along so well.  They’re both so easygoing and cheerful, and he’s just…not.  Watching them laugh at something Nick said – it probably wasn’t that funny, Louis thinks – Louis feels a bit like a stranger in his own flat.  Because he may be sharing a bed with Nick, but Nick and Harry share inside jokes and common experiences and a group of cool friends Louis will never be a part of.

 

He’s not sure why he cares, honestly.  But he’s tired and everything seems like more of a big deal than it usually does.

 

He knows the entire thought process is immature, but that’s never stopped Louis before, so he lets himself indulge in it long enough to march past the sofa, glare at them as meanly as possible, and stomp off to his room.  He doesn’t look back to make sure they got the hint.  That’d be low even for him.

 

His bed is a mess, but Louis flops onto it face-first, burying his head in his pillow and just breathing for a few minutes.  It takes a bit, but soon enough he calms down enough to think critically.  Instead of doing so, however, he pulls out his iPod and flips to the angriest music he can find. 

 

As he listens, he scribbles phrases in his notebook, desperate for anything to give him even a flicker of inspiration.  His music is up so loud, he doesn’t hear anyone open the door and nearly jumps out of his skin when someone presses a feather-light touch to his shoulder.  Though he manages to hold back the high-pitched shriek that tries to escape from his mouth, Louis falls straight off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud _thump_ that echoes through the room.  “What the hell?” he cries, his heart racing and his shoulder sore from where it banged off the ground.

 

Laughing, Nick grabs Louis by the wrists and hauls him back to his feet.  “Someone’s a little jumpy,” he teases, his smile not falling even when Louis roughly shoves him off.  “Guilty conscience perhaps?  Writing naughty things in that little notebook of yours?”

 

Before Nick can grab it, Louis snatches said notebook off his bed and clutches it to his chest.  “Don’t worry about it,” he snaps, knowing full well he’s burning the very shaky bridge they’d managed to build the day before.  But all he can think about is Harry and Nick laughing together and he decides he doesn’t care…he’ll burn it straight to the ground.  “Quick…what’s a word that means _leave me the fuck alone_?”

 

If Nick’s bothered by the dig at all, he doesn’t show it.  He just leans casually against the wall and puts on his thinking face.  “ _Piss off_ is a good one,” he says decisively, tapping at his chin as he contemplates.  “Or _get lost_ , perhaps?”

 

“Well, I’d really rather you did all three of those, if you don’t mind,” Louis tells him darkly, his eyes darting pointedly toward the door.  Then, because he just can’t help himself, he adds, “Besides, I’m sure you’d rather be with Harry anyway.”

 

It’s then that Nick’s easy smile finally drops.  “What are you talking about?” he asks, surprised.  “If I wanted to be with Harry, I would.  It’s not like I think I’m obligated to stay with you or anything.”

 

Louis’ face goes a little pink because he _knows_ this, he does, and he wishes he could take back the whole thing.  “I just…he’s your friend, so I thought…”

 

“Are we not friends?”  Now Nick just looks amused.  He takes a step toward Louis and this time Louis doesn’t back away.  He has to tilt his head up a bit to look Nick in the face.  “This isn’t primary school anymore, Tomlinson.  We don’t need a secret handshake for it to be official.  Although, that would be really cool, I’m not going to lie to you.”

 

Louis wishes he wasn’t comforted by Nick’s words, but he’s only human and he can feel some of the jealousy melting away, leaving him feeling slightly pathetic.  “Maybe we’ll make one,” he says quietly, only half joking. 

 

“As long as one of the steps is a good night’s sleep, I’m totally down,” the older man agrees, kicking out of his jeans.  Louis stares at his bare legs for a good ten seconds before he realizes what he’s doing and hastily looks away, mortified.  Slightly panicked and unsure of what to do with himself, Louis practically catapults himself across the room and flicks the light switch, bathing the room in blackness.  Nick just laughs at him.

 

This time they aren’t so careful about bumping as they both crawl into Louis’ bed.  Their legs tangle together briefly as they try to get comfortable and Nick gives Louis’ hip a friendly pat before wishing him a good night’s sleep.  He doesn’t even hesitate before returning it.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Things get easier after that.  The second-guessing and arguing and thinly-veiled irritation die down a bit, though the Nerf gun sneak attacks only get worse and worse.  The flat has become a warzone – Harry and Louis have joined forces and claimed the lounge as their headquarters, leaving Nick to take cover in the toilet by himself.  He’s definitely losing the war, but he thinks that’s understandable considering he’s twenty-nine and they’re mere toddlers.  But it’s a fun way to kill time when he’s not out with his friends or doing work stuff, so he’s always got a gun within reach to ward off any and all ambushes.  Then, at the end of the night, he falls into bed next to Louis and they drift off side by side.  It’s surprisingly nice.

 

Nick’s been living with them for two weeks when Harry grabs him by the hand and literally drags him outside to the back balcony.  “What are your intentions with Louis?” he asks straight away, not even bothering to lead up to it.

 

Nick nearly chokes on his spit.  “What?” he cries, completely stunned.  His brain hasn’t even processed the question before his mouth is stuttering out, “What?  I…there’s no…?  What?”

 

“Grimmy,” Harry says simply, refusing to back down.  His hair is curling cutely around his ears and his cheeks are extra blushy today and yet he looks the scariest Nick has ever seen him.  It’s very unsettling.  “You’re glued to his side every night.  Why?”

 

“Because I don’t have a fucking bed, Harold!” Nick exclaims, scrambling to collect himself.  He knows he should have seen this coming – Louis is one of Harry’s best friends, after all – but it’d become such routine to curl up with Louis at bedtime that he’d almost forgotten how weird it was in the first place.

 

“He didn’t even sleep in that bed until you started staying over!” Harry points out and then his eyes widen as if he’s just realized something.  “Wait, are you guys shagging?  I bet you are!” 

 

The question brings so many things to mind that Nick does _not_ need to be thinking about right now, so he falls into one of the patio chairs and breaks into helpless laughter.  “No, you idiot…we’re sleeping!  Like _actually_ sleeping.”  He reaches out to take Harry’s hand, giving it a little squeeze.  “You don’t need to worry, okay?  I have nothing but the purest of intentions when it comes to your absolute menace of a friend.”

 

Harry sighs and it sounds like it comes from all the way at the bottom of his feet.  He’s dropped the Angry Father act and is now thoughtfully scuffing the toe of his boot against the balcony floor.  “It’s not that, really,” he admits.  “You’re both adults…you can do whatever you want.  I just want to make sure nothing happens to him, you know?  He’s kinda…”  Harry trails off, shrugging.  “…he’s important.”

 

That makes Nick smile, because if there’s one thing he understands it’s how important friendships can be.  He’s spent most of his life meticulously surrounding himself with people that make him happy and bring out the best in him – he’s done his fair share of The Talks as well.  “You can rest easy, popstar, because nothing’s going on there,” Nick promises.  “If there was, you’d be the first to know.”

 

“He’s good-looking though, yeah?” Harry teases, leaning back against the balcony railing and lifting his foot to give Nick’s knee a little tap.  “It’s okay…you can admit it.  I won’t tell him.”

 

“See, now you’re pushing it,” Nick laughs, shaking his head at his friend.  “And I think this conversation is over.”

 

“Fine,” Harry huffs, but he’s smiling. 

 

Before they can officially disband, the balcony door slides open and Louis practically bounces out into the chilly air.  “There you are!” he says happily, pulling a mini Nerf gun from his back pocket and shooting Nick in the face before flopping gracelessly into his lap.  Nick grunts as the wind is knocked out of him, but he doesn’t push the younger boy off.

 

“You’re so heavy,” he complains instead, looping his arms around Louis’ waist and giving a little squeeze to show he’s kidding.

 

“That’s not important right now,” Louis says haughtily, aiming downward to shoot another dart at Nick’s foot.  “What’s important is that I need a word that means _really, really happy_.”

 

“ _Overjoyed_ ,” Nick says right away, hooking his chin over Louis’ shoulder.  “ _Delighted_.  _Jubilant_.  _Pleased._ ”

 

Louis goes still for a second, seeming to turn the words over in his head.  “Hmm…yeah!  That’s good!” he agrees, jumping back to his feet and rushing inside, taking most of the energy with him.

 

Across the balcony, Harry is smirking at him like the shit that he is.  “Don’t say a word,” Nick warns.  “Not one word.”

 

_-_-_-_

 

Liam gives Louis a long hug and an extra big kiss on the cheek before sending him on his way, but not even that can shake Louis out of the funk he’s been in since he’d woken up that morning.  At this point, they’re just meeting because it’s what they’re used to, not because they ever end up writing anything.  They’d started and scrapped so many songs, Louis’ insides feel more like broken pieces than anything else.

 

He cries a little bit on the drive home because no one’s around and he’s allowed to feel sorry for himself every now and again, dammit.  It’s just so, so discouraging to spend hours, days, _weeks_ on something and get no results.  Especially when it’s something so crucial to their careers.  If he doesn’t figure this out, they’re over.  And that’s a very scary thought.

 

By the time he gets home, he’s a mess.  His hands shake as he struggles to fit the key in the lock and he thanks anyone who’s listening that Harry and Nick both went out tonight.  No one needs to see him like this.

 

The door finally swings open and Louis stumbles inside, sniffling and shivering, but not from the cold.  A little whine comes from the back of his throat without his permission and he drops his coat to the floor, all at once feeling too weak to hang it up.

 

“Louis?” a concerned voice says from the sofa, making Louis’ face crumble and go hot with humiliation.  Nick’s not supposed to be here.

 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand and refusing to look over at his friend.  He feels really stupid.

 

Nick crosses the room quickly, laying gentle hands on Louis’ shoulders.  “Well, good thing I am, yeah?” he says softly, then draws Louis into a hug.  Despite his embarrassment, Louis goes willingly, falling against the older man and letting himself be held.  His hands are clutching at the back of Nick’s t-shirt so tightly the fabric will probably be stretched when he lets go, but he can’t seem to stop.  Nick is solid and real and Louis doesn’t want to give that up quite yet.

 

They hug for a couple minutes, Nick smoothing Louis’ hair until he’s calmed down.  Over his head, Nick tells him, “I’m going to take you out to dinner, okay?  We’re going to go out and we’re going to pretend this never happened and you’re going to have a great time, Lou.”  He pushes Louis back so he can look him in the eyes.  “How’s that sound?”

 

Louis’ stomach swoops a little and he nods, smiling despite himself.  “That sounds really nice,” he admits, now blushing for a different reason.  Then he remembers how gross he looks – he’s in tracksuit bottoms and an old raggedy jumper and he hasn’t washed his hair in a couple days.  “I gotta have a shower real quick, though,” he adds hastily, gesturing at himself.  “Not really suitable.”

 

“Nah,” Nick disagrees, waving a hand at him dismissively.  “Totally suitable.  Just grab your coat and we’ll go.” 

 

Louis hesitates for a second, but finally goes to pick his coat up off the floor.  If Nick doesn’t care, he’s not going to either.

 

They take Nick’s car and he drives them to a little hole-in-the-wall place in downtown London.  It’s a bit dark and musty, instantly making Louis feel better about the fact that he looks like death warmed over.  “Are you taking me here to kill me?” he asks, trying to pretend like he doesn’t notice Nick holding the door open for him like a proper gentleman.  He doesn’t know how to react to that.  It’s nice…and Louis has never known quite what to do with nice.

 

“My original plan was to eat burgers, but if you want to throw in a side order of murder, we could probably work something out,” Nick responds without missing a beat, pulling out Louis’ chair for him.  Once again Louis pretends not to notice, just sinks down into it and ignores the way his tummy has gone all wobbly.

 

Nick goes up to the counter to order them California burgers – he claims that nothing cheers you up like adding guac and bacon to an already fatty food – and Louis uses the minute or so alone to catch his breath.  His eyes keep flitting over to Nick, watching him talk easily and excitedly to the waitress about God knows what as he waits for her to count out the change.  He’s just so good with people.  Louis can’t help but admire him.

 

When he returns, Nick sits down across from Louis and tells him, “She says it’ll be like five minutes.  I know it’s longer than popstars are used to waiting, but do you think you can handle it?”

 

“Hilarious,” Louis quips, reaching across the table to flick him in the arm.  “If I had my Nerf gun here I’d shoot you right in the teeth.”

 

Nick presses a hand to his heart, pretending to wipe away a tear.  “You know all the right things to say, Louis Tomlinson,” he sniffs, then breaks into a teasing smile.  “Tonight I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

 

Louis knows he should say something, knows he should thank Nick for bringing him here and buying him food, but it’s like his mouth locks up.  The only thing he manages to get out is a smug “don’t you forget it!” and he cringes inside as soon as the words are out of his mouth.  Luckily, Nick just laughs and it’s then that their food arrives.

 

Just like he promised, they don’t mention Louis’ breakdown or songwriting or anything career-related even once.  Louis learns all about Nick’s family – his two older siblings and their kids that Nick clearly adores an incredible amount.  Nick also tells him about Daisy and Alexa and Henry and Gillian and Aimee, all people Louis vaguely knows of, but the way Nick talks about them makes them seem really, really amazing.  Louis wonders how much of that is because they actually are amazing, and how much of it is because _Nick_ is amazing.  The thought catches him off-guard.

 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it because Nick wants to know about his family now, so he gives him the rundown, from Lottie all the way down to Ernest and Doris.  When he’s done listing them off, Nick’s mouth is hanging open.  “I knew you had a big family, but I didn’t know it was an entire _army_!” Nick exclaims, surprised and a maybe little bit impressed.  “That’s really cool, though.”

 

“I prefer to think of us as a football team actually,” Louis says, unable to hide his smile.  “I’ve already gotten the twins – the baby twins – little jerseys for when they’re a bit older.  It’s gonna be awesome.”

 

By the time they’ve finished their dinner and each had a chocolate milkshake for dessert, Louis can barely remember why he was so upset earlier.  With Nick’s positivity and excitement ringing in his ears, it’s hard for him to worry about the state of his career.  He knows the pressure will return – and probably soon, if he’s being honest – but for now he’s content to just relax. 

 

_-_-_-_

 

Driving home from the restaurant, Nick can’t stop chattering.  He knows he’s talking a mile a minute, but he’s just realized that he really _likes_ Louis and he can’t shut up.  Louis doesn’t seem to mind though…he keeps laughing in all the right places and throwing in silly comments here and there.  It’s really comfortable and easy; Nick pats himself on the back for having a really good idea and executing it flawlessly.  He’s brilliant.

 

Harry’s still out when they return to the flat, but they hardly notice.  They head straight to Louis’ bedroom, stripping down to their boxers and jumping into his bed.  Once they get situated, Louis announces from next to him, “I’m gonna cuddle you, Grimshaw.”

 

Nick groans, because as much as he enjoys being around Louis, cuddling is _so_ not his thing.  “Not really a cuddler, love,” he says apologetically and for the first time he almost wishes it were different.

 

Louis turns on his side, squinting his eyes up to study Nick’s face curiously.  Then he shakes his head.  “No,” he says matter-of-factly.   “That’s not correct, actually.”

 

Affronted, Nick gasps a little.  “You can’t just tell me about myself,” he laughs, shoving Louis’ shoulder.  “I would know better than you.”

 

As if he didn’t hear a word Nick said, Louis repeats, “I’m going to cuddle you.”  He slings one of his legs over Nick’s body and snuggles in, tucking his face into Nick’s neck.  It’s really…hot.  Nick is already starting to sweat, but he grins to himself and tentatively puts an arm around Louis’ shoulders, tugging him closer.

 

Maybe he can do it just this once.

 

_-_-_-_

 

The next day is Saturday and for the first time since Nick has been staying there, he wakes up after Louis.  The bed is empty, but Nick is so happy, he just leaps right out of it to get ready.  He puts on his clothes and brushes his teeth and half-heartedly does his hair before leaving the room.  He finds Harry in the kitchen, looking rough.  Nick wonders when he got in last night.

 

“Where’s the little monster?” he asks, glancing around to see that the lounge is empty.  The flat is strangely quiet for a Saturday morning.

 

“My room,” Harry rasps and Nick feels so bad for him, he has to lean in and press a kiss to his forehead.  He sounds awful.  “Probably writing.”

 

Nick wonders if he should interrupt, but eventually decides he doesn’t care.  He makes sure to knock and a quiet voice calls, “Come in!” from the other side of the door.  He pushes it open.  When Louis sees that it’s him, he breaks into a smile.  “Good morning!” he greets him and Nick is _so_ fucked.  “You alright?”

 

“Yep.”  Nick flops down onto Harry’s bed next to Louis, scooching back so he’s leaning against the headboard.  He takes a deep breath and then bites the bullet.  “So, I had a lot of fun last night,” he offers.  “Who knew you were such a good date?  I mean, _I_ couldn’t have predicted it.”

 

Louis goes pink and looks down at the duvet, avoiding Nick’s eyes.  But Nick _had_ predicted that, so he doesn’t mind at all.  However, he hadn’t predicted that Louis would finally mumble, his voice all quiet and sweet, “Thanks for doing that, by the way.  It helped me a lot.”  He finally looks up, catching Nick’s eyes.  “I had fun, too.”

 

“So…” Nick trails off, unsure.  One would think at twenty-nine he’d be better at this.  It’s downright sad is what it is.  “What are…?”

 

Louis holds up a hand, interrupting him.  “Quick…what’s a word that means _I don’t hate you_?”

 

Nick lets out a snort of laughter, shaking his head in amusement.  “ _Enamored_?” he tries. 

 

Louis makes a face and, quite frankly, Nick agrees.  So he tries again, this time with “ _Attached_?”  Louis hesitates, then shakes his head, rejecting that one, too.  “Okay, how about _fond_?”

 

“ _Fond_ ,” Louis repeats as if he’s rolling the word around on his tongue.  Then he lights up.  “Yeah…that’s the one!  We’re _fond_.”

 

“I like it,” Nick says, then flinches when Louis lets out a loud sigh of exasperation from much too close to his ear.  “What?  I thought you liked that one!”

 

“How are you going to let a boy tell you that he’s fond and then not kiss him?” Louis asks petulantly, throwing his hands in the air and flinging his pen across the room.  “I swear, time is wasted on people like…”

 

Taking the hint, Nick finally leans in and presses his lips against Louis’, cutting off the stream of words and making the younger boy hum happily, his eyes dropping closed.  Nick cups his cheek, running his thumb softly over Louis’ stubble before they pull away.  Louis’ eyes are shining happily.  It’s one of the most beautiful things Nick has ever seen.

 

“How was that?” Nick asks dryly, his heart beating faster than normal.

 

“Satisfactory,” Louis answers, barely hiding his smile.  “I bet you can do better.”

 

Nick leans in again.  “Try me.”


End file.
